


When Beggars Die

by Hypercamera3



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Afterlife, Amnesia, Disjointed narrative, Dream Bubbles, Execution, Eye Gouging, Freeform, Mind Control, Torture, general sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2420207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypercamera3/pseuds/Hypercamera3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of four interconnecting one-shots, following The Dolorosa from the day of Signless' execution to the first day she awakes in the after life, during which everything she ever knew and loved falls apart around her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mother's Eyes

He was still screaming. He was still screaming and there was nothing she could do. Time had been lost to her, and she wasn’t even sure how long he had been hanging up there. She couldn’t even remember when he’d started screaming. It had all blended together into one, torturous tone.

The sun was setting now. Did the execution start in the morning? No… It couldn’t have. He couldn’t have been hanging there all this time. Screaming all this time…

She had been forced to stand at the back of the crowd. The shackles around her ankles barely allowed her the mobility to shuffle through the mass of trolls. Even if she could walk correctly, the bluebloods kept her chained arms in tight grips. They were bringing her closer and closer to the front of the audience. She assumed so, because his screaming kept getting louder and louder.

Her eyes had only caught sight of him for a second, as they marched him out. He was so thin… She had called out to him, but the blueblood had struck her to the floor. Her son hadn’t even heard her. But she had heard him very clearly.

As they marched her forward, she caught sight of familiar faces. The Grand Highblood, chuckling at the execution. The Subjugglator was only a few feet from the prophet, licking his lips at the thought of the mutant blood on his walls. E%ecutor Darkleer was a few yards from her son, an arrow set in his bow, but lowered. That sweet huntress, Meulin, was beside him. She was on her knees before him, weeping into the dirt. The Empress had come through earlier with Mituna, but now they were no where to be seen.

Porrim kept her gaze from moving to Signless; she didn’t want to see him like this. The ground seemed to shake beneath her feet, and her head was swimming. He’d stopped screaming.

She moved her eyes towards him. His breath had finally run up, it seemed. Meulin’s eyes turned upward to him, as well. The olive blood was on her feet in a second, sprinting to Kankri’s side. Darkleer raised his bow, but The Grand Highblood motioned for him to stay calm.

Meulin was before him quickly, wrapping her arms around him. His breath was ragged, there was blood leaking from his lips. He lifted himself up, to say something. Instead, he coughed and splattered bright red over his matesprit’s face. A massive hand tightened its grip around Meulin’s arm and yanked her back.

"LET ME GO!" She shouted at the Grand Highblood. He lifted his club and smashed it over the back of her head; the wood splintered. She was whimpering as the Highblood kicked her back to Darkleer, who forced her to stand.

Porrim still just watched what occurred around her son, never bringing her eyes to him. Kankri had enough strength to lift his head, looking at the audience he had drawn, and those in the front row to his death.

He pushed forward, gasping in pain. He coughed a few times, but the words finally became clear, just barely above a whisper. “Mom…”

_Oh, just kill him already,_ Porrim thought. She fought back the tears. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. This couldn’t be how it ended.  _Not like this._

"Mom…" He muttered again. "Mom… is that you?"

She tried to wrestle free from the arms of the bluebloods, but they wouldn’t let her go. They thought she was going to rush to Signless’ side. She wanted to get  _away._ He was dying. She was losing her son. There would be no more lessons to teach. No more cave explorations to take him on. No more enjoyment to be had in each other’s company.

He was going away now, but that didn’t mean she had to fucking  _watch him go._

It was a raspy whisper now. “Mom, just tell me you’re there… Please…” Blood erupted from his lips as he started to cough violently.

That was it. Porrim was on her knees now, like Meulin had been, weeping into her hands. Let this be a nightmare. Let this be a horrid dream. Where was his elegant language? The massive words he brought out to impress other trolls? Not those simple words he was spitting out. This was all some huge trick, it had to be.

"Alright. This bullshit is getting my motherfucking annoyed on." The Grand Highblood turned from the prophet. "Darkleer. Motherfucking kill this motherfucker. Up and bring me his body when you’re done with the olive."

"Yes, sir." Darkleer raised his bow, taking steady aim for Signless’ chest.

"No!" Porrim jumped up to scream, but the Highblood’s boot in her side made her breath come up short.

"And get this motherfucking jadeblood back to the cell. I got some wonderful fucking plans for her." The Subjugglator said as he walked passed.

The bluebloods were lifting her to her feet when she heard the arrow get loosed. Next, she heard her son gasping for air.

"…Mom…" He said to the sky.

"No! Get off of me! I need to see him!" She shouted at her captors.

"Fuck…" Signless whispered. "Fuck.. It hurts. Fuck…"

"KANKRI!"

"FUCK!" He screamed again.


	2. Strung Up Like Dolls

They were still dragging her. The blueblooded guards refused to allow her any chance to move. He kept fighting in their grasp, struggling just to regain even in the slightest bit of control. She wanted to run back, she needed to.

"LET GO OF ME! HE WAS CALLING FOR ME! LET ME GO YOU FUCKS!" She screamed at them. They never even looked at her.

"Dat lil’ piece o’ shit. Don’t fear, honey, Darkleer knows how to put ‘em down quick. I heard him all da way over here, though." Porrim lifted her eyes and found herself looking up at the Empress. " ‘FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!’ God, I was glad when they culled him."

The two guards forced the Dolorosa to her knees and one wrapped their arm around her skull. She snapped her head up and forced her to stare at the Condesce.

The sea-dweller took a few steps towards her. She planted one side of her trident on the floor and knelt down on one knee. The bluebloods forced her eyes to follow the Empress on the way down. She stared into the fuschia irises. A grin came across the Empress’ face and she slid a cold finger along the Dolorosa’s jaw.

"You’re a pretty one, aren’t ya, girl. Almost a shame you had to waste your life like this." She tightened her grip around Porrim’s jaw. "Damn you’re fine, you know that? Mother of the Revolution. Hot Momma of the Revolution would be more fitting."

The grin never left her face. She removed her hand and kept staring straight into Porrim’s jade eyes. “I should torture you for causing all this. But, I’m fair. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The Dolorosa opened her mouth and the Empress leaned in slightly to make sure she heard it. A glob of jade-colored spittle splattered across the Condesce’s royal face. Her grin turned to a grimace as she wiped the spit way. In silence, she returned to her feet. Then, she raised a foot and sent a kick crashing into the Dolorosa’s skull.

The bluebloods kept true to their strength, despite the force of the kick. The blueblood hadn’t released her skull from the grip, so the full impact stayed with her. She came forward, panting. Desperately, she ignored the stream of blood going down her face, blinding her left eye, pooling in front of her.

"I’ve been spat on three times today, bitch," the Empress began, "One by that mutant, and I made him suffer longer for it. Second by that pissblood, and I’m proud of that work. And now, you…" The Empress lifted her trident up and pointed down the hall. "Take her to see him, I’ll handle the rest after."

The bluebloods forced her up again and dragged her to the room the Empress has pointed out. The world was still mostly green, and now it was spinning. The side of her think-pan was throbbing and she could barely even support herself when they finally let her stand. They threw her to the floor and slammed the steel door behind her. 

Porrim examined, as best she could, the area around her. She was surrounded by tools and strange machinery, engines and the base of rockets. She struggled to find why they’d thrown her in here, until she spotted him.

Strung up from the ceiling and floor, by purple tendrils that seemed to be encroaching on him, hung Mituna. Porrim rushed to him, attempting to and failing to, climb the tendrils to see him. She grabbed his clothes at the waist. “Mituna, Mituna! Can you hear me? Please tell me you can hear me.”

He hung there in silence. His mouth opened, but only to let a small line of yellowblood escape passed his lips. He turned his head slightly, seeming to gesture to something beside them. She turned and saw what he pointed out. It was a a small steel container, rimmed with liquid gold. Inside, a pair of hands and feet were laying. “Oh god!” She cried out. She turned to him. “Mituna, please, say something!”

She heard the door open behind her. She heard the heavy steps approaching her. She looked up at him, desperate. A sound started emitting from his throat, but it was cut off as the trident leaned out and stabbed him in the eyes, making sure not to pierce the skull. And he started screaming.

"What do you think of my handiwork? They needed to take the meas’ments to build this one special for ‘im. They needed his eyes out next anyway." She smiled, plucking the eyes off the two tips on her trident.

The Dolorosa tried to find something to say.  _I’m going to kill you. I’m going to make you suffer. I’m going to make you pay for this._  But all her threats would be empty she knew. She just whimpered out a word. “Please…”

"I could kill you," The Condesce went on. "Be real simple. But I want you to see what you caused. I want ya to really sit’n’wonder about what you did." She grabbed Porrim by her hair and started dragging her out of the engineering-block. Porrim struggled against her, punching at her, screaming, reaching back to Mituna in vain hope.

"I’ll fucking kill you," she finally said to the Empress, but she was ignored. She turned back to the yellowblood. "Mituna! Please!"

Mituna croaked out two words before she was separated from him forever. “Kill me.”


	3. Dimmed

"Ah’m tellin’ ye at this point to just throw the bitch in the sea," Dualscar exclaimed.

Mindfang remained in her seat, sighing. She supported her head on the tabled in the center of her quarters. She ignored the sounds of her ship creaking. The wood was being almost completely rotted through, despite the care she’d been trying to give the ship for sweeps beyond her count by now. The idea of getting a new ship was completely out of the question. The only viable option was to steal a substantial load of gold and have the entire ship repaired.

"I’m not throwing her off, you idiot." Mindfang was tired, to put it plainly. She’d been arguing about what to do with this slave for perigees. She’d bought her at the market simply because she looked gorgeous, but there was nothing to be done about her. She fought against every request. She denied any hospitality that Mindfang tried to offer her. She resisted all of the captain’s romantic approaches, no matter what.

"Well, have ye thought about usin’ yer pan-powers on her?" Dualscar questioned. He had honestly no care in the situation between this slave and Mindfang. Anything that involved Mindfang getting off through Red-Romance had no bearing upon him. He wished he had something to smoke.

"I’ve tried! She fights against me, resists at every turn." Mindfang sprung up, holding her arms out dramatically. "She refuses to let me take over her mind."

"That should probably tell ye something," Dualscar said with a chuckle. "Maybe ye aren’t as strong as you think you are."

The captain stood and glared at him. “Is that a fucking challenge?”

"No?"

"Sounded like one." Mindfang walked over to the door and threw it open. She pointed to one of her guards. "You! Get the jade blood over here." She slammed the door behind her and moved to her wardrobe.

"What are ye doing?"

Mindfang ignored him. She dug through her collection of clothes until she found her coat. The black and cerulean coat, ornate with sapphires and decorated with the symbol she’d claimed for herself, was the single item she used to show her power over the rest of her crew. She put it on over her smallclothes and started buttoning it up.

"She talks in her sleep, you know. You know that preacher that the Empress executed? Big revolutionary dude. Yeah, this woman raised him as a substitute lusus."

"No shit."

"It’s true. She talks in her sleep a lot, nightmares, mostly. I’ve seen her nightmares before, scary shit. She talks about that preacher, too much. Calls him her ‘son’ whatever that is, sounds intimate at any rate. His name was Kankri, apparently. But, I’m gonna get rid of all of that right now. I’m going to wash her fears and nightmares away, right now."

"That’s fucking despicable and petty. Ye’re gonna erase all her memories, everything she knows, so ye can get in her nook." Dualscar sighed again.

"Shut the fuck up. I’m giving her a mercy. I’m giving her a reprieve from the life of torment she’s had." Mindfang shot back. She finished buttoning her coat and moved to the middle of the room. She waited for her guard to appear.

"Ye’re taking her life away to make it yers. Replacing memories to make her think she’s Red for ye."

"If you aren’t going to provide your assistance in this and instead choose to twiddle your stupid fucking gills, you can get the fuck off my ship. I love this one, and I get what I want!" Mindfang kept her voice below a scream, to make sure she showed full control of herself.

Dualscar grunted and left the room. As he left, the guard came. Dualscar stopped and watched them drag in the troll. She was dressed in torn rages, covered in little spots of blood, a rainbow all across.

They dropped Porrim on her knees and she looked up as Mindfang approached her. “What… Please, not again…”

"This’ll be the last time, love." Mindfang promised. She grabbed the Dolorosa’s forehead and shut her eyes.

Porrim’s eyes shot open when she felt the hand intruding on her thoughts. She pushed Mindfang away and fell to the floor, clutching at her think-pan. Mindfang fell to one knee and kept a hand extended towards her slave. “Give in!” She glared at Dualscar for a second, before flashing her eyes back to Porrim.

Porrim was ripping at her hair. She was seeing colors, faces, trolls, blood. There was blood everywhere. Faces inside the blood. Trolls she couldn’t remember. Trolls she knew perfectly. They were fading. And getting closer. Further and further. Closer and closer. Intimate. Distant. Red. Red. Yellow. Olive. Olive. Jade. Distant. Going. A battlefield in her head. Voices screaming at her. And then she was screaming.

“ _STOP! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY PAN! STOP! GET OUT, YOU BITCH! GET OUT!”_ The Dolorosa was thrashing on the floor of Mindfang’s quarters.

The cerulean-blood smiled. She closed her hand into a fist and the slave stopped. Mindfang was taking deep breathes; Porrim was breathing deeply, but silently, staring up at the ceiling.

Dualscar shook his head and finally took his leave. Mindfang moved over to the slave. She put her arms around her and helped her back to her feet. Once the slave was steady on her feet, Mindfang put her hands against Porrim’s cheeks. “Love, tell me your name.”

"Porrim Maryam," She responded quickly.

"Who is your master?"

"You, mistress Mindfang," She responded as quickly.

"One more question," Mindfang took a breath. "Tell me about Kankri."

Porrim searched deep into the eyes of her mistress. She blinked.

"Who?" She hesitated.


	4. Sideways

Torn flesh, everything’s red. Red like blood. No one’s blood is as red as yours. Too red. Blurred. 

"Mom…"

Where did she go? She disappeared. She looked away. Disappointed. She doesn’t want to look. He disappointed her. Disappointed. 

Disappointed. 

Tears, flowing. Diluting the blood. Not as poignant. No one noticed. Just more blood. 

"Signless!" Someone screams. 

_Worthless,_  Kankri remembers. 

Loading arrows. Drawstrings pulled back.  _Pluhk!_  Bone splits. Blood spills. 

"FUCK!" 

Silence. Signless. Limitless. Empty. 

White. 

Empty for eons. Timeless. Here forever. Forever. Infinity.  _Sideways eights_ , Kankri thinks to himself. 

Wandering, years and years. Voices in the darkness speak. Whisper. Caress with words. Calming. 

"Forget yourself." 

"Forget your life." 

"Let it all fade." 

"Remember nothing." 

Scars on your wrists. Not scars. Tears. Burns. Seared flesh, raw bone beneath ripped tendons. No more blood. No more leaking. 

Arrhythmia.  _Bumpbump, bump_

_Bumpbumpbump, bump._

Bloodpusher can’t move. Trapped beneath the arrow he broke out of his chest. Too hasty when he first appeared. 

His fault. His fault he hurts. 

Mother ripped away from him and sold, lover forced to never love again, friend sentenced to eternal damnation, in life. 

His fault.  _My fault._

His burden to remember. His brain to be tortured by the thoughts. The memories. The blunders. 

His faults. 

"I’m sorry," Signless whispers to no one. He wanders. He accepts. The voices caress him. He forgets. 

*                                                       *                                                 *

A new voice shouts from no where. Echoing. Distant, but beside him. Close, but ever far away. 

Anathema. 

Hatred. 

Regret. 

Swinging skirts rushing from the horizon to meet him. 

"Kankri!" The figure shouts. A hole ripped through her chest. Her swinging skirts not skirts, rags. Slave’s rags. 

Bones torn through her midsection. A rib juts out. Veins and arteries and tendons hang within the hole. No bloodpusher. 

She’s smiling. She’s crying. 

Familiar. 

"Forget to remember," a voice whispers to him. 

"How long have I been here?" the troll asks. Thoughtless. 

"F o r e v e r." 

"Forever," he repeats. Meaningless. 

She embraces him. Touch. Remember touch. 

Caressing him. 

"Kankri!" She sobs. She’s hugging him. 

"Who are you?" he asks. Faceless. 

She sobs harder. Steps back. Looks deep into his eyes. 

Into blank infinity. 

"I’m your mother. Porrim…" 

"Mom," someone says long ago. 

The hooded troll says nothing. He stares. He gawked. He remembers nothing. Voiceless. 

"I don’t know you." He walks away. 

"Yes you do." 

"Stay away from me." 

"Come back," she sobs. 

He walks. 

"Come back," she pleads. 

He walks. 

“ _COME BACK!” She cries out._

And he fades. 

Everything turns sideways. And he disappears. Child of dust. 

She finds dust. The stranger on the road. Her son. 

Not her son. Just dust. Delusional. Aimless. 

She sits there for eternity. Too many eternities. 

Never sees the stranger again. Never sees her son again. 

She fingers the hole in her chest, to remind herself that it’s all real. Tangible. 

Dead. 

She’s dead. And she is filled, by emptiness. 

Deafened, by silence. 

Crushed, by weightlessness. 

Full, of dust. 

And a gentle voice caresses her. Whispers

"Forget yourself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not, nor will I ever be, sorry.


End file.
